'Nifty' and 'Fifty'
Rhyme. Isn't That Special?
And even to your old
age I am he;
and even to hoar hairs
will I carry you;
I have made, and I
will bear;
even I will carry, and
will deliver you.
— Isaiah 46:4
One week before a big, bad birthday, you should go to the
storm cellar with dark chocolate, a soft quilt and several junk novels, and
stay there 'til it alllllll blows over.
Wish I'd done that last week. Instead, I turned 50 in the harsh
light of day, beset by constant reminders of my advancing age. With no
recourse, I now become that "f" word . . . a "fogie."
My only-slightly-younger brother proclaimed that I was
passing the HALF-CENTURY mark - hahahahaha - asking with imitation compassion
whether this birthday marked "the ultimate f-word." He urged me to have Lasik
eye surgery "so that we can compare our flaps."
Flaps?
Corneal flaps, he answered, deadpan.
Sheesh. We USED to have FUN conversations about lively,
happenin' things. Now we're down to cholesterol counts and dental work?
EWWW!!!
To take my mind off it, our family went to the zoo. We saw
the elephants. I stared at the deep grooves and ruts, the hardened rivulets and
fossilized canyons, the alligator patches and dry, scaly plateaus. I just KNEW,
next time I looked in the mirror, that's what I'd see . . . ON MY FACE.
AAAIIIEEE!!!
My mail was cruel. Guess what: "nifty" and "fifty" rhyme! Isn't
that clever? Ha ha. And why, this week of all weeks, did I have to receive my redrafted
Last Will and Testament? Doesn't our overpriced law firm, Low & Blow, have
any tact? "The party of the first part, dating back to the prior mid-century, whose
crib is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, shall hereinafter not
buy any green bananas. . . ."
OY!!!
Even at the grocery store, I suffered. I got in line behind
a little old lady with white hair. She wrote a check. It took forever. She was
trying to get cash back, but miscalculated. "Do you have a dime?" the cashier asked
loudly. "I'd have to give you $29.90 in cash, the way you wrote this check. But
if you'd give me a dime, I could give you $30 even."
"Ohhhhh!" the she replied, confused. Hands shaking, she
fished her wallet out of her purse. It had 14 rubber bands around it. Something
in me snapped.
I plucked a dime out of my own wallet and handed it to the
cashier. "Here! Here you go!"
The little old lady turned to look at me with gratitude . .
.
. . . but the world stood still . . .
. . . BECAUSE SHE HAD A LUSTROUS WHITE MOUSTACHE!!!
My eyes locked onto it. My entire being clenched.
THAT'S what's next for me? Too old to do simple math, but with
facial hair that's the envy of teenage boys coast to coast?
You see, our third daughter is working this summer at a
laser hair-removal salon. With my big birthday coming up, everyone has been kidding
me about the possibility of getting a niiiiiice discount.
Eyes still riveted on that moustache, I listened as the
cashier asked if I had a store card. No, I didn't.
The old crone leaned over: "She can use mine!" She grinned,
hairily.
Turns out, with her card, I saved $9.70! Not bad, for a dime's
investment.
I got to thinking: that's how old age is. You just don't
know it while you're getting there.
You put so much effort into rearing your children, you pucker
your face. But you wind up with wonderful children. Good investment.
You try your best, for decades, to focus on the important
people in your life. What do you get? Worn-out eyesight. But luckily,
hindsight's 20-20. Look back, and you'll see: it was worth it.
You throw in a little kindness now and then, "just because,"
not expecting anything, and you get a spectacular return, like 970 percent.
Getting old . . . is fun and easy and pays dividends!?!
Yep! Because you have Help. He's with you, all the way. Talk
about old! He's been alive literally forever! He really is older than dirt! In
fact, He's the one who MADE dirt! He's the ULTIMATE Fogie!
Anyway, that $9.70 is a nice down-payment on my first
hair-removal.
Maybe old age won't be so hairy after all! †
